


Mamma Mia

by romanticalgirl



Series: John-verse [2]
Category: Brothers & Sisters
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-19
Updated: 2013-04-19
Packaged: 2017-12-08 22:11:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/766602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How can I resist you?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mamma Mia

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://inlovewithnight.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://inlovewithnight.livejournal.com/)**inlovewithnight** for the beta (and for, you know, creating the OMC).
> 
> Originally posted 7-12-07

John freezes the second he opens the door, hit by the smell and the sound all at once, and wondering vaguely if he’s walked into the wrong house. That’s answered when he hears the soft whimper and looks over to find Clarence curled up in the corner near the door, his head buried beneath his paws. He bends down, and scratches him between the ears, almost absentmindedly.

He manages to make it the few steps down the hall and stops in the entry to the living room, nearly choking on his first words because Kevin is _dancing_.

It’s not anything that good, but he’s dancing around the goddamn living room and singing along at the top of his lungs to something John’s pretty sure is ABBA, but it’s hard to tell with his ears bleeding the way they are. But it’s not the music or even the really, really _bad_ dancing Kevin’s doing that keeps him still. It’s the smile on Kevin’s face.

It hits John right about then that Kevin’s been wrong the whole time. Maybe it’s something he can say to Kevin, and maybe it’s something that would make it all backfire, but it’s true. Kevin’s been wrong every time he says he’s never given anything up for John. He’s given up more than he knows.

Kevin turns in his dance and spots John and blushes redder than his t-shirt, nearly tripping over the stack of law books from the shelf he’d been dusting in his hurry to turn down the music. John just stays where he is, just watching Kevin, trying to see him objectively. He doesn’t think he ever has, not even when they were both kids, because John wanted and needed a friend so badly, he probably would have hung out with a sociopath just for the company.

“Hi.” He’s still blushing, and the color in his face makes his blue eyes seem brighter. He’s slightly breathless from his dance and he’s got dust in his hair. “I didn’t expect you home.”

John smiles easily, doing his damnedest to put Kevin at ease. “Surprise.”

“It is.” Kevin nods, and he’s smiling as well. “Nice one.”

“Trying out for Dancing with the Stars soon?”

“I think you have to be a star for that.” He tilts his head, and there’s no defensiveness there, and John is almost surprised to realize that that surprises him. Even now, even with what they are to each other, Kevin is still defensive. “And, as hot as I am as an up and coming lawyer in the exciting world of corporate law, I don’t think I qualify.”

John nods and takes a few steps toward him. Sometimes it’s like this. Slow and uncertain and like the first couple of times where they were testing boundaries. He reaches out and brushes the dust from Kevin’s hair. “I thought I hid all the ABBA.”

“You hid it in the bookcase. I was dusting the bookcase.” He’s watching John with those eyes, and there’s humor in them so John smiles a bit more before he leans in and kisses Kevin softly. It’s not much as far as kisses go, but it’s a start. “Not that I’m complaining, but how come you’re home?”

“Forgot something.”

“Yeah?” Kevin doesn’t move away or forward. Even though it’s not in his eyes, this is where John finds the defensiveness, when he won’t take what he wants, won’t even _say_ what he wants, as if Kevin’s afraid of forcing him. He’s not quite sure where it comes from, given that he’s more than willingly shared Kevin’s bed and his life for quite some time now.

“I did.”

“To hide the ABBA CD better?”

“Okay, so I forgot _two_ things.” John kisses him again, his hand brushing Kevin’s hair back behind his ear, the curls soft and thick, and Kevin needs a haircut, but the last time he got one, it was too short, and John couldn’t do this, couldn’t feel the slight curl beneath his fingers, and so he won’t mention it.

Kevin makes a noise against the kiss, his lips parting beneath John’s. John deepens the kiss, his hand sliding back, curving around the base of Kevin’s skull, fingers holding him still, letting John guide the kiss, hold it, taste Kevin’s mouth like he’s starving, which sometimes he feels like he is.

Kevin makes another noise and John pulls back, breathless and breathing hard. Kevin’s eyes are half-closed and dark, pupils dilated. John can feel the shift in Kevin’s cock against him, against the pulse beating in his own. “Okay. _Three_ things.”

Kevin laughs and shakes his head. “You’re trouble, John Evans.”

He shakes his head and kisses Kevin once more. “I love you, Kevin Walker.”

Kevin’s breath catches on the kiss and John presses the advantage, turning him and guiding him toward the bedroom. Kevin goes easily, and John knows that this isn’t the best of his ideas – Kevin gets it in his head sometimes that John’s just there for the sex, but then, for being a smart guy, Kevin’s an idiot sometimes, so it all evens out.

His fingers skate under Kevin’s t-shirt, feeling the slight damp feel of his flesh, slick from his dancing and cleaning, but still soap-smelling from his shower. John inhales Kevin at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, nibbling on the warm stretch of skin there as well, tasting salt and sweat and soap and Kevin and groaning under his breath.

They tangle on the bed in the same ways and different. John touches and tastes his way along Kevin’s body, tracing sweat and hair and heat and muscle. He barely hears Kevin’s pleasure over the pulse of his own blood in his ears as he pushes Kevin’s sweats and boxer-briefs down, wrapping his hand around the hardness of Kevin’s cock. It’s flushed red as well, blushing with John’s attention the same way Kevin himself does and John has to smile for an instant before his tongue slides across the head, tasting the sticky-slick surface.

Kevin arches up into his mouth, and John wishes he could pull back at the moment, see him spread out and sprawling, hands clutched in the sheets, the bones of his hips in high relief as he angles upwards, the dark contrast between the flushed heat of his cock and the pale skin surrounding it. Just the mental image is enough to make John groan and he takes Kevin between his lips, wanting him deep.

He can hear something like words in the distance, like the thrum of a bass line, even when you can’t hear the rest of the music and he uses his tongue and lips to sustain it, stroking Kevin with his mouth until there’s a song to go with it, rough and panted and breathless as it washes over him, the thick heat of Kevin’s orgasm on his tongue.

John pulls back and Kevin’s flushed and hazy, like the lines that define him have been blurred and John has to kiss him. Kevin’s mouth is cool after the heat of his cock, but it’s just as hungry, just as insistent. He groans as Kevin sucks his tongue, reaching in the distance to the nightstand.

Every movement is second nature now, and he doesn’t think to question it, doesn’t think to remember a time in his life when that wouldn’t have been the case. Things are as they are, and he’s gotten good at living that way. He was that way before Kevin, and it’s the thing that Kevin can’t quite understand about him and them, so John doesn’t press it, just does and is and thing seem to keep falling together more than they’re falling apart.

He touches Kevin, fingers slick and already hot before they slide inside him, tastes Kevin’s moan on his kiss. John hurries as quick as he can – Kevin’s already relaxed and sated, so he’s ready almost soon enough, but John’s cock is hard and insistent and he _wants_ , which is another thing he used to think he’d left behind a long time ago. Maybe even before Donna, but maybe not.

John stops thinking then, and lets himself feel. Kevin’s body is tight and warm and _right_ , which is what gets stuck in John’s head all the time, especially when things go bad or wrong. He thinks about how they feel together like this and when they’re not like this, when they’re watching TV or running or making dinner. How they move together, like they’re dancing together, even if he’s dancing to Springsteen and Kevin’s grooving to ABBA.

He laughs at the thought, as he comes, buried deep. Kevin laughs as well, a huffing sound that’s like relief and release in John’s ear. He rests his head on Kevin’s shoulder, closing his eyes and just breathing him in. “Promise me something?”

Kevin strokes his hand down John’s back, leaving invisible trails on his skin. “Hmm?”

“You’ll do that more often.”

“Let you fuck me?” There’s laughter in Kevin’s voice, but something more. Like he knows that’s not what John’s talking about, but maybe he needs to hear what he really is saying, needs the words. Kevin’s always needed lyrics, where John’s always heard it in the music.

“No. Laugh. Have fun.” He braces himself above Kevin again, his limbs feeling weak, but he needs to see Kevin’s face, look in his eyes. “Be you, not just the you that you are for me.”

They’ve had this talk before, but it’s always been Kevin saying the words, always been Kevin feeling like he’s taken something away from John. And maybe he has, but at least now they both know that John’s done it too. Kevin looks at him for a long moment then smiles, nods. “That means more ABBA.”

“I know.” John sinks back down onto Kevin, his mouth against Kevin’s skin and smiling, even as he groans. “God help me, I know.”  



End file.
